


I would walk a thousand miles (to be with you)

by Bohemian (Linguam)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: #SaveShadowhunters, Exasperated Magnus Bane, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sleepy Alec Lightwood, Sleepy Cuddles, Worried Magnus Bane, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguam/pseuds/Bohemian
Summary: “Alexander,” Magnus laments, brow creased in concern as he takes in the state of his boyfriend. “What have you done to yourself?”Five minutes ago, Alec had arrived at the loft, white-faced and shaking and with every line of his body taut in pain. He’d made quite a pitiful sight, clinging to Magnus’s doorway like it was the only thing keeping him upright, looking as if he was seconds away from either fainting, vomiting, or bursting into tears.When Magnus had removed Alec’s shoes and socks, he got an explanation to why.





	I would walk a thousand miles (to be with you)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been struck by a vicious cold, so in an effort to cheer myself up, here's a fic! I wrote this last summer, projecting my own horrible experience of having the majority of my soles (yes, both of them) covered in large, painful blisters. Long story short: don't go trekking on concrete streets for hours on end wearing espadrilles. They may be comfortable but they are not made for city use, and I can guarantee you that you (and your feet) will regret it.
> 
> Title from H.E.A.T.'s _1000 miles._

“Alexander,” Magnus laments, brow creased in concern as he takes in the state of his boyfriend. “What have you done to yourself?”

Five minutes ago, Alec had arrived at the loft, white-faced and shaking and with every line of his body taut in pain. He’d made quite a pitiful sight, clinging to Magnus’s doorway like it was the only thing keeping him upright, looking as if he was seconds away from either fainting, vomiting, or bursting into tears.

Shock had first paralyzed and then propelled Magnus into motion, and he hurried to his boyfriend’s side, helping him limp to the bedroom and easing him down onto the golden sheets. Every halting step left behind bloody imprints on the floor, but what unsettled Magnus the most was the absence of Alec’s usual spiel of, _I’m fine._

When Magnus had removed Alec’s shoes and socks, he got an explanation to why.

People talk about blisters having blisters, and, looking at the shredded soles of Alec’s feet, Magnus _wishes_ that was the case here; instead, the first two layers of skin seem to have been burnt off completely: a thick layer of blood mixing with unidentifiable, translucent liquid and patches of flesh so dark, it’s hard to tell if it’s dried blood or if the flesh itself has been charred.

To say that it looks painful would be a severe understatement.

“What kind of demon did this?” Magnus asks, gaping at the macabre display.

“Not sure,” Alec says. His eyes are closed, breaths strained and shallow. “Pack of five. Small. Spat some… orange looking poison. Moved fast.”

“Iratze didn’t take?”

Alec shakes his head against the pillow.

“And you…” Magnus gestures at his feet. “ _Walked_ here on those?”

Alec hums an affirmative, the sound somewhat muffled by the arm covering half of his face. Magnus doesn’t know if he’s more horrified or impressed.

“Like walking across a three miles long bed of nails on feet suffering second degree sunburn,” Alec mutters, and Magnus winces, both at the simile and at the fact that Alec is acknowledging that it hurts at all.

He summons his magic.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he scolds, as blue tendrils envelop Alec’s feet. “You know I would’ve conjured you a portal.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d be back from your meeting,” Alec mumbles, visibly relaxing into the sheets as Magnus’s magic eases the pain away and starts knitting the skin back together. “Didn’t want to interrupt anything important.”

It isn’t something new, Alec’s reluctance to be in the way, to “bother” his loved ones with things he deems irrelevant and unimportant—such as his health or general well-being—but sometimes, Magnus is once again reminded of how much he’s willing to endure to not draw attention to himself, and it infuriates him as much as it saddens him. He’d hoped they’d come farther than this.

“You’re never an inconvenience to me, Alexander,” he says, taking care not to let his frustration bleed into his voice. He is upset—at the Clave and their callous doctrine, at Robert and Maryse Lightwood and the inhuman demands they placed on their children—but not at Alec. Never at Alec. “And you’re definitely more important than those arrogant Waaldt twins I was stuck with the majority of the evening.” He heaves a sigh that is not only for dramatic effect. “Truly, Alexander, you would have made me a great service by calling.”

“Sorry.”

Magnus shakes his head.

“It’s all right, darling.” He yawns into his shoulder, hands still weaving their magic. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

It’s been a long day of a _week_ of long days for him as well, of dreary meetings and ornery clients and portaling halfway across the world for one rare ingredient after another, and Magnus would be lying if he said it hadn’t taken a toll on him. He might have the appearance of someone in their twenties, but his mind and soul have lived through centuries of hardships and people being whiny bitches and sometimes, it wore even him down.

There’s a soft sigh from the bed, and when he looks up, Alec is watching him with a knowing half-smile.

“You should stop,” he mumbles, nodding toward where gentle wisps of blue are still traveling from Magnus’s hands to Alec’s feet.

Knowing that Alec is right, and feeling far too weary for an argument, Magnus reluctantly cuts off his magic and inspects the result. Where before there was nothing but a shredded, bloodied mess are now two pink soles. The skin is obviously still tender, but no blood or open wounds remain.

“How does it feel?” he asks.

Alec levers himself up on his elbows and looks down at his feet, wiggling his toes experimentally. With his tousled hair and half-open hazels, still clouded by a haze of exhaustion, it’s more adorable than it has any right to be, and Magnus can feel his heart melting. In moments like these, he is once again reminded of how young his Shadowhunter really is.

“Yeah, it feels good,” Alec says, nodding. “Much better.” He looks up at Magnus with a sleepy smile. Reaching out, he grasps Magnus’s hand and tangles their fingers together. “You always make everything better.”

Magnus’s breath hitches, still unexpecting of these candid confessions even after all this time. Alec tugs and Magnus goes, urged on by an almost magnetic pull, as if the universe itself knows that, yes, they belong together.

They lie connected shins to shoulders, Magnus’s waist encircled by Alec’s arms, everything warm and comfortable, and Magnus would be hard-pressed to remember a time where he was more content than this.

“Thank you,” Alec mumbles. His lips are a hairsbreadth from Magnus’s own, palms lazily stroking up and down Magnus’s sides. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Magnus smiles, leans down and kisses him softly.

“I know, angel. It’s all right.”

Alec hums into the kiss, his body soft and pliant under Magnus’s own. It’s clear sleep will soon claim him, and no matter how much Magnus is enjoying this, he will definitely have a crick in his neck in the morning if they fall asleep in this position; not to mention that it would be very uncomfortable for Alec to sleep in his gear.

He leans back, presses his lips to Alec’s forehead.

“Come on, love. Time for bed.”

“Already in bed,” Alec grumbles, but he comes easily enough when Magnus rises and tugs on their still intertwined hands. He winces a little when his feet connect with the ground, but brushes off Magnus’s concern with a quick, soft kiss to his temple.

They go about their nightly routine in silence and, once in bed, they gravitate towards each other, bodies slotting together, legs in a familiar tangle. Alec leans up and places a kiss at Magnus’s forehead before scooting down, pressing his face into the juncture of Magnus’s neck and shoulder.

“Love you,” he mumbles, words slurred with sleep.

Magnus closes his eyes with a smile. His hand finds its way to Alec’s unruly hair and starts carding through it, fondness flooding him as Alec melts against him even more.

“I love you, too, Alexander,” he whispers. “Sleep tight.”

His words are met with silence, and a kind of soft anticipation unfurls in his gut like glowing embers, warm and soothing. He doesn’t have to wait for long.

Moments later, soft snores push into the air, gentle and unobtrusive: delicate waves barely gracing the shore, careful not to disturb any one individual body of sand. Magnus sighs, body melted in complete relaxation, as he lets himself float away on that familiar sound, and toward deep slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Thankfully, my feet were not as bad off as Alec's were, yikes; that being said, I didn't have a magical warlock boyfriend to ease my agony, so I say we're even.


End file.
